


when rome burns

by Hope_Tang



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Gen, SHIELD Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:16:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope_Tang/pseuds/Hope_Tang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this war, there are no front lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when rome burns

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Other than being a fan, I have nothing to do with Marvel or Disney at all.
> 
> This was written post-"Yes Men", pre-"Turn, Turn, Turn" and assumes that the reader is all right with Captain America: The Winter Soldier spoilers.

*

In eight months’ time, the current director of SHIELD’s Academy of Science and Technology will celebrate her tenth year of tenure.

It’s an impressive achievement for someone of her age.

Anne Weaver isn’t sure she’ll live to see her next anniversary.

*

“I wasn’t expecting an increase in our funding, Ma’am.”

“Agent Weaver, are you saying that you’d prefer to lose funding for the Academy?”

“No, Ma’am. I –” _was expecting this research project to be shut down and vaulted. Permanently._ “– I’ll make sure security protocols are tight on this one.”

“Dismissed.”

*

Anne might no longer be in the field working day-to-day operations, but she knows this:

Intelligence gathering is a fancy word for gossip, and SHIELD thrives on secrets.

She pays attention.

*

SHIELD agents, as a rule, do not drink alone. It is an unspoken regulation because drinking alone in their line of work leaves them vulnerable; there is safety in numbers.

So on a Friday night, when all the students are either on campus lockdown or personal furlough, Anne invites her right-hand man to have a drink with her at the local bar. It’s been a long week of budget battles, but their funding hasn’t been torn to tatters and that is a cause for commiseration and celebration.

Harold Wisner says yes, and then takes her to a new spot in town, a jazz club of all places, but she knows his wife loves jazz. This is a scouting mission for the Wisners’ next date night, but Anne doesn’t mind killing two birds with one stone.

It’s a trendy, but chic little hole-in-the-wall place. The patrons run the gamut from ‘barely legal’ to mid-level corporate management. It’s late enough that the crowd has thinned out a bit, and they find themselves a corner table with good lines of sight to the entire room. The drinks are decent and the food is more than good. The live performers are a little unpolished, but enthusiastic in their improv skills. It’s a good place to be, in more ways than one.

When the clapping stops for the latest set of musicians, Anne places her half-filled glass on the table and says, “I think we should have a joint-academy training event in field survival skills.”

Harold turns to her and asks without missing a beat, “Where? Not a lot of locations that aren’t already booked a year out.”

“I was thinking real life, real time.”

He takes a casual sip of his drink before he sets down his tumbler. “What are you thinking? Just ours, or—”

“Two members from each academy,” she replies, “plus an experienced field agent to shadow them. Grade them, more or less.”

“Sink or swim?” he asks lightly, an amusement in his voice that belies the particularly grim look in his eye. That’s when she knows for certain he has heard the same whispers that she has, and come to the same conclusion.

“Yes.”

“That’s a lot of students.”

“Yes.”

He hums, making a show of turning the logistics over in his head, but it’s not really the logistics here that are the problem.

They both know where their funding is ( _isn’t_ ) coming from, the money trails that disappear into the ether despite the careful ( _quiet_ ) efforts of their best and most trusted protégés. They know that they sit at the table every week with some of the most brilliant minds of their generation.

Even with their advanced degrees and years of experience, Anne and Harold both know this: their faculty and staff are human, with the same weaknesses, temptations, and fallacies as everyone else.

Whom can they trust?

“I think Nikolai will go for it,” he says, referring to the cheerful, if lethal director of SHIELD’s Academy of Operations. “Not sure about Ashley.”

“Ashley,” she replies primly, “needs to remember that the front lines can turn up anywhere when things go pear-shaped.”

“I’m not going to say that to her.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to.” Anne swirls her drink. “She’ll be on board, if only because she’ll leap at the chance to prove that her analysts are just as fit in the field as Nikolai’s specialists.”

Harold sighs with amusement. “Those two… Meanwhile, Prita is going to have a fit.”

“Prita,” she reminds him, “has also been complaining that her medics don’t get enough field time before they’re sent out into the actual field.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?”

“Ever since we lost the annual games to Communications, you bet I have.”

He laughs and she smiles because you never know who is watching.

*

Later that night, Harold walks her to her car in the secured parking lot on campus.

“We’ll take care of this,” he murmurs firmly as she takes out her keys.

Anne doesn’t look up from opening her door. “We can’t save them all.”

“No,” he breathes out just as quietly, equally bitter, before he bids her a pleasant goodnight and good weekend. They’ll see each other on Monday morning.

What he doesn’t say is what she already knows:

They will be betrayed.

*

This will be a game with real life stakes.

The lucky ones will survive.

*

As in any large organization, there are procedures and protocols for everything: what to do if someone’s after-hours project sets the labs on fire (again); what to do if someone is truant from classes; what to do if the students get out of hand in the Boiler Room. There is even an evacuation protocol if the campus is ever attacked.

There is no procedure for what she’s about to do.

*

Anne keeps a list of names in her head, a running record of the best and brightest she has ever known. They are all currently scattered all over the world, posted out in the field and embedded in the heart of SHIELD bases.

She writes the personal invitations on a laptop without a wireless connection, saved to a USB drive she keeps on her person at all times, committing what might be called treason with every word. She is most certainly painting a target on her back.

This might be for nothing, but it might be everything.

Come for this unofficial conference, give a surprise bioengineering lecture this quarter, she writes, there is a protégé I want you to meet, a colleague whose research is relevant to your interests.

 _This is your reason to not be at your post_.

There is one pair of names she leaves off her list of escape routes.

She has the comfort of knowing that Fitz-Simmons are under the Cavalry’s protection and Agent Coulson’s leadership; both senior agents will keep the young scientists out of whatever clusterfuck is looming on the horizon. They’ll be safe as long as they keep their heads down.

Then Anne snorts at the thought because Simmons is nearly incapable of self-preservation when her curiosity is engaged and while Fitz has a healthy sense of survival, he will be right there in the thick of chaos to stay by Jemma’s side. Leopold Fitz and Jemma Simmons: woe to whichever suicidal idiot tries to come between them.

She carries on, writing her invitations and putting to use her best friend’s gift before he died on a mission so many years ago.

In this war, there are no front lines.

*

The meeting between the Academy directors and their support staff goes the way she expects it to: after a bit of haggling, snarking, and negotiating, they all agree that a joint-training session would be a good taste of what SHIELD life is like post-Academy, for better and for worse.

“It should be a surprise,” says Nikolai, leaning back in his chair. “There’s no point in announcing it when people can prepare. The entire point is for everyone to think on their feet.”

Ashley shakes her head and points out, “It’s not that easy to quickly disperse and monitor hundreds of trainees, not without them noticing, and we don’t recruit idiots.”

The head of Operations shamelessly baits his Communications counterpart. “It’s your _job_ to make sure our hackers stay white hat.”

“And it’s _your_ job,” she fires back, “to make sure that your lone wolves stay under control.”

Prita interrupts the latest round of “are they/aren’t they?” when she says firmly, “Make it a drill then. Announce it, but say it will commence without warning. Everyone knows it’s coming, but they don’t know when.”

Anne puts in a protest, “We run some very delicate experiments on campus that can’t be left unmonitored at someone’s whim.”

“And if anything were to ever actually go wrong,” Nikolai says not unkindly, “you’d need your lab rats to secure their toys quickly.”

“If it’s just a drill, there’s no point in putting people unnecessarily at risk.”

Howard speaks up from her side. “We can have the faculty and staff go through and secure anything left unattended.” At her look, he adds, “It’s already part of the lab protocols and we’ll cover it in debriefing if anyone decides that they’re too good to follow the rules.”

“Fine,” Anne concedes, “we’ll hash that part out later.”

The conversation moves on. She’s no field agent or intelligence officer, but she’s a scientist who has learned to play the game of politics. The idea of field training isn’t without its own merit

For her plan, it’s the timing that matters.

*

Assistant Director Hill gives her a long look before she approves the expense report and the personnel request.

*

Ashley catches her as the latest planning meeting breaks up.

“I know what you’re doing,” she says and Anne gives her a questioning look. Has she been that obvious in her intentions? Do the shadows already know what she's planning?

The other woman shakes her head. “I agree with you that our students need more real-world exposure before we punt them out into the field and the agency proper, but this does seem to be a rather…extreme way to put your lab techs out into the world.”

Anne covers her relief with a shrug. “They’ll be with other trainees, fish out of the water in their own ways. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“Like your team was fine during the playoffs last year?” Ashley teases cheerfully.

She can’t help but smile back and retort, “We will whip you in this year’s baseball game,”

“Your rookies still can’t outrun mine,” the younger woman asserts. “I’m just saying, you’re sending them to the lions.”

 _No_ , Anne thinks as she walks away with a laugh, _I’m sending them out of the coliseum_.

*

The text message comes on a Tuesday morning from an old friend at the Hub.

The wait is over, and she moves quickly. 

With a stroke of a few keys, her self-written code emails hundreds of Sci-Tech graduates around the globe. She sends the automated alert to her fellow Academy directors, warning them that the training mission is going live, now, before she flips the broadcast switch for the entire campus.

“This is an emergency drill,” she announces calmly over the loudspeaker. “I repeat, this is a mandatory emergency drill. Please open your briefing packets now, and prepare to execute in three, two —”

Anne draws her weapon as gunfire rings out in her front office.

Her door slams open.

“— one.”

 

*


End file.
